Glass Towers
Forced into seclusion
By my own rendition of truth...
What the hell do I think I know?
The spirits in other people's eyes
Embarass me when they see me...
How goofy I must look so,
Embarrassed turning away...
This part's about the one
Who always scares me
And the conflict that
Is part of me...
The separate conflict she
Also lives that
Startles my heart daily...
What a dream near the edge.
This part's about the one
Who tried to "save" me
Who struggled so hard
To already know me...
Who sacrificed the
Longing loneliness
So hard to finally
Get through to me...
What a dream near the edge.
While caresses turn to
Dark endeavors
Parting sorrow
Words that never
Came upon tomorrow's
Wanting halting granted memory...
Sounding out those "should be's"...
Screaming "what's reality?"...
Darting around triumphantly
With so many dreams...
Near the edge...
This part's about
The one I touch
And fade to spiraled
Lingering water...
The father's daughter,
The alma mater
By degree of some
Post modern graduation...
Where constant lessons turn,
Return into sky.
I cry to be a party to
Those wishes I would
Wish my own...
A loving lie
From a telephone
I took too long to see...
See the sky?
2000 wishes burning all those
Prayers from too many liquid oceans...
From tempted delinquent guarded emotions...
2000 ursa majors
And minors sequentially
Reminded of chores
Of living, of loving...
And wild survival.
This one's about the arrival
Of just another spinning...
Dream on the edge...
And the ledge it shivers upon.
Who we are.
-Gray Squirrel
(Thursday, March 26, 1998, 2:13 AM)
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